


Red Card

by starspangledmanwithaplan



Category: Actor RPF, American (US) Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Derogatory Language, Divorce, Drinking, Drunkenness, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Heavy Angst, Language, Light Angst, Mild Language, Oral Sex, Post-Divorce, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Single Parents, Vaginal Sex, more to come - Freeform, single mother
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-01-07 09:08:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18407525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starspangledmanwithaplan/pseuds/starspangledmanwithaplan
Summary: As a newly divorced mom to a young son, you really shouldn't be lusting after the town’s youth soccer coach, but like every other woman in town, you find him insanely attractive. Chris is gentle and sweet, caring and attentive, assertive and in charge when the occasion calls for it, and he’s there for the kids no matter what, nothing like your ex husband.Surely, going on one date with him wouldn't be so bad?





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

Chris was clapping his hands together as he sprinted across the field. “Good hustle, good hustle,” he called out, silver whistle bouncing on his chest. “Claire, remember to kick the ball over to Josiah, okay?”

The little girl with braided pigtails was pouting. “But I wanted to make the goal.”

“I know you did,” Chris said, dropping down to his knee. “Josiah has a better shot this time. Next time, it’ll be your turn. How does that sound?”

The six year old beamed at her coach. “Promise?”

“Promise,” Chris chuckled. 

Claire, your friend’s daughter, threw her arms around Chris’ neck. “Thank you, coach Chris.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, patting her on the back. “Now, why don’t you go help Josiah and Carly pick up the cones.” 

“Okay,” the little girl agreed before tearing off toward her teammates and friends. 

Chris grabbed the ball as he stood and bounced it off one knee, then the other, catching it when something caught his eye. With a shake of his head and a smirk, he jogged over to one particular group of kids, the ones that decided the goal was a jungle gym. 

“You’re staring,” your friend, Claire’s mother, Allison - all me Ali - commented. 

You swallowed loudly and tore your eyes away from the man effortlessly removing the children from the ropes. “I am not.”

“I mean, I don’t blame you,” she went on. “He is a fine piece of real estate.”

“I wasn’t staring,” you insisted. 

Ali’s shoulder nudged yours. “And I’m the Virgin Mary.”

“He’s just so  _ good _ with the kids,” you sighed in faux exasperation. 

“I bet that ain’t the only thing he’s good with,” Victoria, another woman that was ‘in lust’ with coach Chris, muttered in passing, a wicked gleam in her eyes. 

Ali rolled her eyes and handed you one of your son’s books that had fallen out of the bag you were packing. “You should ask him out.”

“What?” you gasped in surprise. “No. I’m not… that’s… no. He’s Diego’s soccer coach. No.”

“You’re single, I hear he’s single,” she pressed in a sing-song tone. “Why not  _ mingle _ with the hot coach?”

“He’s Diego’s soccer coach,” you repeated, harder than before. “It wouldn’t look good, and it would be confusing for Diego. I don’t want to confuse him anymore than he already is.”

You looked across the field to find your son trying, and failing, to get involved in a conversation, probably about Minecraft. The other kids ignored him or told him to go away, and it broke your heart. 

All Diego ever wanted was to be included, to feel like he belonged. You blamed your ex husband for that. Before Dominic left, Diego was outgoing and happy all the time. Now, he barely said a word and hid in his room, playing games and reading. You had hoped joining the soccer team would bring him out of his shell. 

“You two want to come over for dinner?” Allison asked, breaking you from your thoughts. 

“Not tonight,” you answered softly. “I told Diego I’d take him out for pizza after practice.”

Allison nodded. “Tomorrow night, then. I’ll make your favorite and we can open that bottle of wine Luther and I got at the vineyard.”

Thank God for Allison and her husband. They helped pick up the pieces after your ex left, and never let you go. They were the support system you never knew you needed, and you had no idea where you would be without them. 

Claire ran up to Diego, smiling and holding out a dandelion. Once he took it, she grabbed his other hand and pulled him across the field, away from the boys he desperately wanted to be friends with.

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” you chuckled ruefully, the sight of Claire pulling Diego behind her lifting your spirits. 

Allison bent down as soon as her daughter approached. “Claire, what did we talk about?”

Claire’s smile faltered and her hand slipped from Diego’s. “We don’t pull people.” 

“That’s right,” Ali confirmed, resting her hands on her daughter’s waist. “What do you say?”

“I’m sorry, Dee,” Claire apologized sadly, her eyes growing wet. 

Diego pushed his glasses up his nose. “I forgive you.”

She immediately brightened up and gave him a hug, whether he wanted it or not. 

“Alright, Claire,” Allison laughed, pulling her daughter back. “Let’s get home.”

“Is Dee coming over?” she inquired with big eyes.

“Not tonight, sweetie,” you answered. “But we’ll be there tomorrow.”

She held out her pinky. “Promise?”

You curled your finger around hers. “Promise.”

Diego was pushing the crust of his pizza around his plate with his thumb, his other elbow on the table, his cheek resting against his closed fist. 

When he blew out a heavy breath, you asked, “You okay, bud?” 

“Yeah,” was his barely audible answer. 

“Was your pizza good?”

“Yeah.”

You took a drink of your soda. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, mom.”

After pushing your plate to the side, you reached over and ran your fingers through his dark hair. “You sure?”

Diego sighed and shrugged one of his shoulders. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head, pulling away from your touch. 

“Okay, we don’t have to talk about it,” you agreed, sitting back. 

It was killing you, watching as your son pulled into himself. You missed his raucous and infections laugh, the way he’d launch himself into your arms for a hug and kiss, how he would proclaim his love for you on an hourly basis. You even missed the times that weren’t so picturesque. 

The sound of the bell above the door grabbed Diego’s attention, and he was up and running through the pizza parlor before you could even blink. 

“Coach Chris,” he called out, barreling into the man’s legs.

Chris grunted at the impact. “Hey, bud,” he greeted your son without an ounce of displeasure at just being rammed into. “What are you doin’ here?”

“Eatin’ pizza with my mom,” he answered, pointing at you as you rushed over.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” you apologized. “He usually doesn’t do that.”

“It’s okay,” Chris assured you with a smile the sent a thrill through you. “I’m used to it.”

You gave Diego a stern look. “But someone isn’t supposed to go running off, no matter  _ who _ it is. Right?”

“Right,” Diego sighed softly, his eyes falling to the floor. 

“Your mom’s right, bud,” Chris said, dropping down to Diego’s level. “Even when we’re inside, we shouldn’t run off.”

Diego nodded and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Okay, coach Chris.”

Chris gave your son a wink as he stood. “I’m actually glad you’re here.”

“What, why?” you laughed nervously. 

“Can we sit down?” 

“Sure,” you answered a little too loudly. “We have a booth in the back.”

Once seated, and with Diego playing a video game, Chris gave you a warm smile. “Let me start by saying that I absolutely love having Diego on the team.”

Your stomach dropped. “But…?”

With his hands clasped, fingers threaded together, Chris looked over at your son before continuing. “There have been some… incidents.”

“What  _ kind _ of incidents?” you asked even though you had an idea. 

Chris gnawed on the inside of his cheek. “Diego and another kid have gotten into a couple of fights. It happens, trust me. And, at first, I thought it wasn’t anything major, which is why I haven’t brought it up until now.”

You could have sworn a herd of butterflies were trying to climb out of your throat. “Tell me what happened.”

“Diego pushed him down, called him a liar, and said he hated him,” Chris told you. 

Tears pricked your eyes as you shook your head. You covered your mouth with one hand and looked over at your son. “When did this happen?”

“Today, at the start of practice.”

God, you felt like a failure. Never in a million years did you think you would be  _ that _ parent. Hell, you never thought you’d get a divorce, but there you were. 

“Is he uh, going to get kicked off the team?” 

Chris shook his head. “No, not if it gets taken care of right away. Dominic’s parents are -”

“Wait, did you say Dominic?” you asked, your voice thick.

“Yeah. Does that mean something to you?” 

You huffed in understanding. “Dominic is Diego’s father’s name. He left eighteen months ago, and Diego hasn’t been the same. It’s actually why I enrolled him on the team. I figured it would give him something to look forward to, to get his mind off of his dad.”

Chris’ brows were pulling together. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Don’t be. We’re better off without him,” you bit out, instantly regretting your tone. “I’ll talk with Diego, get him to apologize. It won’t happen again.” 

His hand over yours surprised you. “If you need to talk to someone, I’ve been known to be a great listener.” 

The heat from his hand was seeping into your bones and you found yourself relaxing. It felt nice.  _ Really _ nice. 

“Thank you,” you said with sad smile, pulling your hand back. “But I think it would be best if I didn’t cross that boundary.”

“Oh, yeah, no. I get it,” Chris stammered, his cheeks turning pink as he pushed out of the booth. 

Diego came running over. “Are you leaving? I thought you were going to eat with us.”

Chris dropped down to Diego’s level. “I just had to talk with your mom for a minute.”

“You’re leaving?” Diego asked with those wide, chocolate eyes of his.

“Sorry, bud, but I gotta get home and feed Dodge.” Chris stood tall and ruffled Diego’s hair before bidding you goodnight. 

You were tucking Diego into bed when you decided to talk to him about Dominic. “Coach Chris told me about the fights, baby.”

Diego’s eyes fell to the bear against his chest. “Oh.”

“Why have you been fighting with him?” you asked softly. 

He shrugged. “I dunno.”

You pulled in a breath through your nose. It was one of the answers you hated the most. “I think you do know, you just don’t want to talk to me about it.”

Dark eyes flicked up to yours. “He uninvited me to his birthday party.” There were tears in his eyes and he was sniffling.

“Oh, baby,” you lamented, sweeping your thumb across his cheek. “That hurt your feelings, didn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he choked out. “He’s a liar, and I hate him. Just like daddy.”

_ There it is. _

You pulled him into your arms and kissed his crown. “I know, bud. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not fair,” he cried into your shirt, little fingers gripping tight.

“It’s not, you’re right,” you agreed, shifting so you could push him back enough to look into his eyes. “You know what’s  _ not _ right, though?”

“Pushing people,” Diego muttered thickly.

You nodded. “And…?”

“Using the word hate.”

“That’s right, baby,” was your soft approval. “Now, you’re going to write Dominic and his parents  _ and _ Coach Chris an apology tomorrow.”

“But I already apologized,” he argued.

One of your eyebrows arched and you cleared your throat. “And you’ll do it again, Diego.”

Your son sighed as he fell onto his back. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Hey, I’m not mad about what happened, okay?” You rested your hand over the one he had on his chest. “It just makes me a little sad.”

Diego’s eyes were still wet when he looked at you. “I don’t like it when you’re sad, mama.”

“I don’t either, buddy,” you admitted. “It happens, though, and you know what? It’s okay to be sad and mad and lonely. We just don’t get to take it out on other people. We talk about it, okay? And if you ever want to talk to me, about  _ anything _ , I’m here.”

He shifted under the blankets. “What if I don’t wanna talk to you?”

“Well, then we’ll find you someone to talk to, okay?”

“Can I talk to coach Chris?” he asked timidly. 

_ “If you need to talk to someone, I’ve been known to be a great listener.”  _

You had already told Chris no, that it would be crossing a boundary, but the way your son was looking at you gave you pause. 

“I’ll think about it,” you answered. “Goodnight, bud. I love you.” You bent over and kissed his forehead before taking off his glasses and setting them on the nightstand. 

“I love you, mama.”

Diego started having nightmares after Dominic left so, on your way out of the room, you turned on the nightlight before turning the light off. The move from a spacious two-bedroom house to a much smaller two-bedroom apartment across town didn’t help matters. He was still up almost nightly, but the severity of the dreams had lessened in the last three months. You were hoping that by the start of the school year, Diego would be sleeping soundly through the night, though you weren’t going to hold your breath. 

Exhausted, you climbed into bed and immediately pulled a pillow against your chest. It didn’t matter that you  _ severely _ disliked the man, you had a hard time falling asleep since Dominic had left eighteen months ago. You would toss and turn, twisting your body into all sorts of weird positions as you sought unconsciousness. 

For some reason, tonight was different from all the ones prior. You buried yourself in the blankets and pillow, and fell asleep almost instantly.


	2. Chapter 2

At the start of the next practice, Diego apologized to Dominic and his parents, a handwritten note to each person, albeit sloppily written. Dominic gave Diego a wary smile, but didn’t invite Diego back to his birthday party. Understandably, Diego was hurt and confused, but he didn’t start screaming as he had done previously. You made sure to give him a tight hug after that. 

Coach Chris was next, and you could tell Diego’s nerves were getting the better of him. 

“It’s okay, bud,” Chris assured your son, dropping down to a knee. “You can talk to me about anything.” 

You pushed your fingers through your son’s hair. “Go ahead, Diego.” 

Diego dug his cleats into the grass. “I’m sorry about getting into a fight, Coach Chris.”

Chris gave Diego a warm smile and clapped a hand onto his shoulder. “I forgive you, Dieo.” 

“Really?” Diego let out a shuddering breath. 

“Yeah, buddy,” Chris assured him. “We all get angry and our feelings get hurt. We just have to learn how to express ourselves in a way that we don’t hurt someone else.”

Diego launched himself at his coach, arms wrapped tight around Chris’ neck, almost knocking the man on his ass. “Thanks, coach.” 

Chris laughed when Diego tore off. “That kid is something else,” he said as he stood. 

“You’re preaching to the choir, coach,” you mused, watching your son interacting with Claire. 

“Call me Chris,” he insisted. It hadn’t been the first time he’s mentioned it. 

You shook your head. “It’ll confuse Diego.”

“Diego’s on the field,” Chris needlessly informed you with a smirk. “You can say it.”

“No, we uh, we should remain professional. You’re working.” 

He nudged your shoulder with his. “I won’t tell anyone.”

You felt stupid, refusing to drop the title of coach when talking to him. That didn’t stop you from doing it. 

“Coach, the kids,” you pointed to the group that were standing in the middle of the field playing duck, duck, goose rather than stretching. 

“The kids are perfectly fine,” Chris assured you, his voice lower than before. “Say it once, that’s all I’m asking.” 

You rolled your eyes and chewed on your bottom lip. “Why is it so important to you?”

His breath blew against your ear when he answered. “I’ve never heard you say my name before, and it’s driving me crazy.”

Your heart stuttered and the breath caught in your throat. You looked up at him and felt a blush coloring your cheeks and neck. “Wha - what?”

Chris’ pupils flexed as they settled on yours. “I’m dyin’ to hear you say my name.”

His name tumbled out of you before you could even think about stopping it, and the way his teeth sank into his bottom lip made your legs turn to jelly. 

“Can you stay after practice? There’s something I’d like to ask you.”

You nodded dumbly, mouth hanging open, eyes wide, probably drooling as Chris winked and ran to the field. The children flocked around him, eagerly waiting for their coach’s instruction.

“What was  _ that _ about?” Ali asked, intrigue coating her voice. 

“I… uh, I do- I don’t…” You swallowed, hoping that would kickstart your brain into working properly. “He wanted me to say his name.”

“What now?” Alison blinked rapidly in confusion.

Tucking some hair behind your ear, you made sure no other parents were within listening distance. “He said he was dying to hear me say his name.”

“Damn,” Ali grunted. “He likes you. I  _ told  _ you you should mingle with him.”

“Well, he said he wanted to ask me something after practice,” you told her, trying to keep the butterflies  _ in _ your stomach and out of your throat. 

“Ooooooo, he’s gonna ask you out,” your friend teased under her breath, smiling wide. 

You rolled your eyes and slapped her in the shoulder. “Shut up, he is not.”

Ali pretended like you seriously injured her. “I bet you a bottle of wine.”

“You’re on,” you shot back, your hand held out in front of you. You shook her hand with a determined nod, ignoring her giggles.

“What are you going to say?” she asked as the two of you drop into the chairs. 

“He’s not going to ask,” you sighed, trying like hell not to get your hopes up. 

Allison handed you a thermos filled with coffee. “You say potato, I say he’s gonna ask you out.”

After taking a drink, you passed the thermos her way and shrugged. “Same thing I told him when he said I could talk to him whenever I needed to; no.”

“Wait, what happened?” Her full attention was on you. 

“It’s no big deal,” you tried to say.

“Tell me.”

You rolled your eyes before facing your friend. “Diego and I were out eating pizza. Coach Chris stopped in, said he needed to talk to me about Diego. Turns out, he pushed a kid, said he hated him.”

“Honey, I’m sorry. Do you know why he did that?” Her hand was on your arm, giving it a comforting squeeze. 

“Kid’s name is Dominic. When he uninvited Diego to his birthday party, Diego’s feelings got hurt. He told me it was just like his dad.” Your throat went thick and you had to clear it a few times before you could say anything else. “I hate this, Ali. I hate that I pushed Dom away. Diego is  _ hurting _ , and it’s my fault.”

Allison pulled you into a tight hug. “Sweetie, it’s not your fault. Dom is an asshole with a drinking problem. He loved that bottle more than he could ever love you and that sweet little boy of yours. What happened between the two of you is  _ his _ fault.”

“If I had just -”

“No, none of that,” she interrupted you sternly, pulling back. “Short of turning into a bottle of booze yourself, there was not a damn thing you could have done.”

You sniffled and swiped a hand over your face. “I know.”

With a tight-lipped smile, Allison quickly changed the subject. “You’re going to say yes.”

“What?” you scoffed. 

“Coach Chris,” she said, eyes falling on the man of the hour. “He’s going to ask you out, and you’re going to say yes.”

A herd of butterflies erupted in your stomach at the sight of Chris. He was wearing a pair of white sneakers, dark blue sweats, a white t-shirt, and a red zip-up hoodie. His hair was moving in the breeze, and his ginger beard looked so very soft, your fingers itched to move through it. 

“I shouldn’t,” you mused. 

“But you will,” Ali insisted, leaning back in her chair, coffee in her hand. “You will.”

Chris knew it was wrong, flirting with a mom of one of the kids on his team, but he couldn’t help himself. She was kind and funny, smart and sassy, compassionate and strong. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and he was completely enthralled by her. 

Even though he did need to talk to her about Diego’s behavior, seeing her the other night at the pizza parlor hadn’t been planned, but he was glad they were there. He was worried about the boy. Diego was a great kid with a huge heart, just like his mother. To see him pushing another kid was pretty hard on Chris. 

Chris wanted to ask her out that night, but then he found out why Diego was acting out; his father. It wasn’t his place to ask and he didn’t know any details but, if the rumors were true, Dominic struggled with sobriety. He didn’t know which version of Dominic’s departure was true, but each version he heard was sad and upsetting. 

Chris was in the minority growing up, his parents had stayed together. In fact, they were just about to celebrate forty years as a married couple. Many of his friends came from ‘broken homes’ and he saw the trauma up close, the nightmares and the feelings of inadequacy, the anger and depression, the crying and hitting. So, to see it happening to a kid like Diego broke Chris’ heart. 

He loved kids, wanted one - or more - himself one day, and Diego was special. Chris could see it a mile away. His love for kids was the main reason he decided to become a soccer coach. Well, that and the fact he was kicked out of the league for - 

“Coach Chris?” Diego looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. 

Chris dropped down to Diego’s level. It was something his father had taught him, made the child he was talking to feel as if they were important, on the same level. 

“Yeah, bud?”

Diego held out his hands. His palms were scratched and bleeding, as were his knees and chin. “Coach Stan said I could get the ball that went into the parking lot and I fell.”

Chris hissed in empathy. “Are you okay?”

He nodded, but his chin was quivering. “Yeah. Just stings.”

“Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” As he stood, he caught his friend and assistant coach’s attention, saying he’d be back in a bit. 

After Chris cleaned and bandaged the cuts, he sent Diego back onto the field and made his way over to the woman he couldn’t stop thinking about. She was seated next to Claire’s mom, Allison, and they were sharing a thermos of coffee. He made sure to approach from the side so he didn’t startle them. 

“Hey,” he said with a smile. “It’s nothing major, I just wanted to let you know that Diego fell. He got some scrapes, but he’s all bandaged up.”

She breathed a heavy sigh of relief, her hand over her heart as she stood. “Thanks for telling me. I’m surprised he didn’t come running over.” 

“He wanted to show you the cool bandages,” Chris laughed, hands shoved deep into his pockets. “But since practice is almost over…” His voice trailed off and the almost-silence went thick. 

“There was uh, something you wanted to talk about?” she asked, her voice timid.

Chris smirked and nodded, the words tumbling out of him before he knew what was happening. “Would you go out with me?”

Her eyes went wide and her mouth formed a small o. She swallowed audibly before stammering an answer. “I uh, I mean, we should… professional… on a  _ date _ ?”

God, she was adorable, but her less-than happy response took the wind right out of his sails. “Ye- yeah, I was hoping so.”

“You were?” Why did she sound so surprised? 

Chris ran a hand through his already wild hair. “I like you and I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while. I just… I never had the nerve.” 

Despite the smile that was tugging at her lips, she shook her head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. You’re Diego’s coach. How would that look?”

“No, yeah, I get it,” he sighed in assurance. “Forget I said anything.” He gave a tight smile before turning away and heading onto the field, his chest and gut burning with anxiety. 

Allison smacked your arm as Chris departed. “The  _ hell _ is wrong with you?”

You were shrugging and crossing your arms. “It’s not a good idea.”

“Like hell it isn’t,” she snapped. “That man is hard-working and  _ amazing _ with the kids.”

“Doesn’t hurt he’s hot, right?” you scoffed, rolling your eyes which were burning with unshed tears of regret and disappointment in yourself. 

Your friend glared at you and ground out your full name. “Did you turn him down because you really care what everyone else thinks, or because you feel like you don’t deserve to be happy?”

“How do you know he would make me happy? How do you know he’s not  _ just _ like Dom?” You hated the anguish that clung to your voice. “I can’t do that again. I can’t put Diego through that  _ again _ .” 

Ali pulled you into a tight hug. “Woman, I love you, but you need to know that there are good men out there, and he is one of them.”

“How do you know?” 

“Call it a woman’s intuition,” she chuckled. 

You rolled your eyes and pulled out of the hug. “Yeah, I feel the same way,” you admitted, crossing your arms and watching as Chris rounded up the large group of children with Coach Stan’s help. 

“Promise me something,” Ali said, following your line of sight.

“What?”

“Think about it, going on a date with him.”

You blew out a breath through your nose, your eyes roving over the tall and wide frame of Chris. You knew you should give him a chance. Ali was right, not one bad word had travelled through the town.  _ Not one. _ You had seen the way he treated the parents, but it was the way he interacted with the kids that made your heart skip a beat. 

“I’ll think about it.”

“By the way,” she murmured smugly, nudging your shoulder with hers. “You owe me a bottle of wine.”

It was late by the time you got a moment to yourself. Diego was wound  _ tight _ after dinner and proceeded to literally run around the apartment. You were almost convinced that bedtime was going to be an impossible task, but Diego surprised you by willingly changing into pajamas and climbing into bed without so much as an eye roll or sigh. 

After tucking him in, you cleaned up; putting away the mess of toys, doing two loads of dishes, sweeping and mopping the floors, all while thinking about Chris’ proposal. Your head and heart battled it out, each one raising valid points in their heated debate. By the time you flicked off the lights and climbed into bed, you were exhausted, but you couldn’t fall asleep. You needed to make a decision or you were going to go crazy.

You grabbed your cell phone from the bedside table and pulled up Chris’ contact information. His personal number had been given to each parent with the stipulation that the conversation remain about your child - and  _ only _ your child - and if there was an emergency. Your thumb shook as it hovered over the keyboard. What you were about to say was not only  _ not _ about Diego, it wasn’t an emergency either. 

_ Fuck it. _

__


	3. Chapter 3

Chris kept checking his phone, he couldn’t help it. Even though she said she wouldn’t go out with him, he was expecting to get a text from Y/N, Diego’s mom. So, every thirty seconds, he was flipping his phone over or tapping on the screen to get it to light up, and it was driving Sebastian crazy.

“Dude, do I need to confiscate the damn thing?” he scoffed.

“What?” Chris mumbled, eyes glazed over as he took in the empty screen on his phone.

Sebastian rolled his eyes and took the phone, shoving it deep into his back pocket despite Chris’ demand to return it. “What’s goin’ on with you, anyway?”

“What are you talking about?”

Sebastian stared at his friend, eyebrow arched, lips pulled into a disapproving pucker. “You’ve been acting weird ever since practice. Now, spill. What’s goin’ on?”

“Give me my phone back,” Chris demanded, voice thick from the beer and irritation.

“No.”

Huffing, Chris fell back against the booth. He had known Sebastian for almost ten years. The man wasn’t going to back down. “I asked Diego’s mom out.”

Sebastian’s eyes went wide. “Really, Chris? You’re breaking the first rule, man.”

“I know,” he huffed again. “I just… I really like her and the words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.”

“Judging by the way you keep looking at your phone, she said no,” Sebastian commented.

“Yeah,” Chris scoffed. “She said it would look bad, the two of us dating since I’m Diego’s coach.”

“She’s not wrong.”

Chris rolled his eyes. “Thanks, man.”

“What do you want me to say? That I think it’s a good idea?” Sebastian posed, resting his elbows on the table. “It’s not. It’s a horrible idea. And not just because the rules specifically state -”

“Fuck the rules,” he practically snarled.

“There’s the winning attitude that got you kicked out of the league.” It was Sebastian’s turn to roll his eyes.

Chris glared at his friend while drinking his beer. “That’s not what happened.”

“Kind of is. You broke the rules, multiple times.”

“This is different,” Chris insisted.

“Really? Because it doesn’t seem that different to me.”

“Before… it was…” Chris ran a hand over his face and sighed. “I was younger and a whole lot dumber. Drinking, the reckless driving, the drugs… I was… it all happened so fast and this... it’s _different_ now, okay?”

Sebastian had been the first person in town to meet Chris, the fallen professional soccer player. He had just gotten out of court-appointed rehab and was looking to start over; a new job, new surroundings, a new life, and Sebastian had been the one to offer him that. He decided to give Chris a chance and hired him to help coach the town’s children’s soccer team, prefacing it with how important it was to follow the rules, how it sets an example for the kids. There would be only one strike, no second chances.

“It’s different?”

“It’s different,” Chris repeated. “Besides, she said no.”

The phone in Seb’s pocket buzzed. Without thinking, he retrieved the phone and read the text that lit up the screen. “And if she were to change her mind?”

“That’s up to you,” Chris said nervously. “I’ve only got one shot at this.” Even ten years later, Chris was scared of fucking up, of losing the life he had worked so hard to build, of losing the one friend he would die for.

Sebastian handed the phone to its owner. “If you say it’s different, I believe you. Just… be careful, okay? You’re my best friend and I don’t want you to do anything that is going to jeopardize what you’ve accomplished.”

Swallowing around the knot in his throat, Chris nodded and took his phone. “It’s different, I promise.”

He opened the text notification and smiled wide, quickly typing off a response.

The next couple of days flew by, and when Saturday night rolled around, you were full of nervous anxiety, twisting and hot in your stomach and chest. It had been years since you had gone on a date. Even when you had dated, it was with Dominic, Diego’s dad, and he hadn’t been all that… attentive, invested.

“It’s going to be great,” Ali assured you after Diego and Claire disappeared into the little girl’s bedroom.

You felt like you were going to explode, or throw up. “How do you know?”

“First of all, because you deserve this, a night out with an amazing guy,” she started. “Secondly, I know you. You’re all nervous and scared now, but once you get there, the conversation will start flowing and everything will be just fine.”

“I don’t know,” you mused, second guessing yourself. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”

Ali grumbled your name. “Don’t you dare back out on this date.”

“Why are you so invested in this?” you chuckled.

“Is it wrong that I want to see you go out and have a good time?”

You shook your head and sighed. “No.”

“Okay, then,” she giggled. “Go. We’ll see you in the morning.”

“But -”

“Go,” Ali giggled harder, pointing a finger at your car. “Or so help me…”

“Alright,” you conceded, hands in the air, walking backwards down the path. “I’m going.”

“I love you,” she called out, waving.

You blew her a kiss out the passenger window. “I love you.”

Mario’s was a small Italian restaurant on the other side of town. You felt it was a little too intimate for a first date, but when Chris first asked about it, you couldn’t think of another place to go.

“Good evening,” the petite redhead wearing a black dress greeted you. “Welcome to Mario’s.”

“Hi,” you said with a nervous smile. “I’m meeting someone. I don’t know if he’s here yet.”

She said your name as a question, smiling when you nodded. “Right this way.”

You followed her through the restaurant to a table in the back where Chris was waiting. He stood as you approached, smoothing a hand down the front of his shirt. You had only ever seen him wear track pants or sweats and a t-shirt or hoodie, so the sight of him in a pair of dark wash jeans and crisp oxford blue shirt made your stomach flip lazily.

When you moved to pull out your chair, you found his hand already on the back of it.

“You look really nice.” His compliment was low, just enough for only you to hear.

“Thanks,” you murmured as you sat down, pink coloring your cheeks. “So do you.”

“Can I get you two a bottle of wine?” the redhead you had forgotten was there asked.

Chris looked at you as he sat, eyes darker than you’d ever seen them. “What do you think?”

“Su- sure,” you stammered, hands pressed to your thighs. “Is Merlot okay?”

“Perfect,” Chris answered with a wink.

“I’ll let your server know.”

You waited until the hostess left before taking a look around. “It’s nice in here.”

“It is,” he agreed. “I eat here more than I probably should.”

“I uh, I’ve never actually been here,” you admitted, hoping he couldn’t hear the nerves clinging to your voice.

Confusion flickered across Chris’ face. “Really? How come?”

“My ex wasn’t much for going out with me. He preferred his friends, Jack and Jose,” you divulged. You kicked yourself internally for sharing that bit of information. Chris didn’t need to know anything about Dominic, did he?

“I’m sorry,” he lamented. “I didn’t mean to -”

“It’s okay,” you assured him. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

That look of confusion was back. “Why not?”

“He’s my ex,” you answered with a shrug. “I shouldn’t be talking about him while I’m on a date.”

“It doesn’t bother me,” Chris said genuinely. “He’s a part of your past, so conversation about him is bound to be unavoidable. Whatever you do or don’t want to talk about is up to you. I won’t push any boundaries. Not now, not ever.”

God, did he _have_ to be so perfect?

When the wine came a moment later, you blew out a breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding. Chris ordered the Pappardelle Tartufate, and you couldn’t help but notice the slip in his accent. You quickly scanned the menu before deciding on Linguini Alla Bolognese.

“Good choice,” Chris commented as soon as the server left.

“You’ve had it?”

“I’ve had everything on the menu,” he laughed. “Some of them more than twice.”

You couldn’t help but laugh with him. “Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.”

“And why is that?”

“You have a… go big or go home kind of vibe,” you answered.

Chris rested his forearms on the table and leaned over. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Not necessarily.” You would not have been surprised if he heard the way your heart was hammering against your ribs or the fluttering of butterfly wings in your gut. “So, tell me about you.”

“Ah, yes,” he chuckled. “First date conversation. What do you want to know?” He sat back as the food was delivered, setting a napkin on his lap.

“Where did you grow up?”

Chris took a drink of wine before answering. “I was born and raised in Boston. I have two sisters that are older than me, Carly and Shanna, and a younger brother, Scott.”

“Your parents were busy,” you teased before taking a bite.

He cringed in a way that you found adorable. “When you put it that way…”

“Gross, no,” you gasped. “I just meant, four kids is a lot. I only have one and most days I’m so busy I barely have a minute to myself. Which, now that I say it outloud, I realize how bad it sounds.”

Chris shook his head. “It doesn’t sound bad at all. Everyone needs time to themselves, even if only a couple minutes.”

Yeah, Chris was officially perfect, and you kind of hated him for it.

“Continue,” you instructed him, officially turning the conversation back on him.

“Well, I had a typical Italian-Irish Catholic upbringing,” he said around a mouthful of pasta.

You rolled your eyes in sympathy. “Mass.”

“ _Lots_ of mass,” Chris clarified, fork aimed in your direction, pasta falling off. “Um, let’s see. I was in sixth grade when I found out I was good at soccer. Like, _really_ good. I played through middle and high school, even into college.”

“What about after college?”

Chris shifted in his seat and took a long drink of wine. “I uh, I went pro.”

You about choked on your food. “You did? That’s awesome. What happened?”

“Honestly? It was great, for a while.” Chris shoved the food around on his plate. “But then, I don’t know, I guess I forgot why I loved playing.”

Your stomach twisted in an all-too familiar way. It was the same thing that happened when you found out Dominic had been drinking his way through the checking account and into the savings, when you found him bed with another woman, when ‘debt collectors’ came knocking on your door looking for payment.

Your hands were shaking when you asked, “Chris, what happened?”

“I got into trouble, a lot of it, and when I couldn’t get out -”

“What happened?” you demanded, on edge, scared.

Dark eyes full of shame and regret met yours. “Cocaine.”

No. Nope, you couldn’t do this. Not to Diego. Not to yourself. Not again.

When you cleared your throat and grabbed your purse, desperation flooded through Chris. “I’m clean now. Please don’t go.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “Dominic used to say the same thing, Chris, and look where that got me. I’m a single mom whose only suitor was addicted to cocaine and got kicked out of the league. Thanks, but not thanks.” Tears clouded your vision, threatening to fall as you shoved out of your seat and strode away from the table.

Chris ground out a curse and threw some cash on the table before following you out the door. “Wait, please,” he called out, your name a hopeful prayer on his lips.

“No, Chris,” you replied, digging in your purse for your keys.

He caught up quickly and cradled your elbow in his hand. When you yanked away and he saw that you were crying, he winced and apologized. “Please, just… you didn’t let me finish.”

“What more could there be?”

“I’ve been clean -”

“You said that,” you scoffed.

“For ten years,” he finished, voice raised, though not yelling. “After rehab, I knew I couldn’t go back, to the league, to Boston. I packed a bag, picked some random town on a map, and took the first job I could.”

You were torn. On one hand, you wanted to slap him and drive as far away as possible, and on the other, you wanted to wrap him in your arms and tell him everything would be fine. He took your silence as permission to keep talking.

“I fucked up, but that’s not who I am anymore. I also completely understand if you never want to see me again, just… God, I’m sorry.” The words tumbled out of him and his shoulders sagged.

His name came out in a breathy whisper as tears spilled down your cheeks. “Everybody fucks up, I know that, but… it’s not just me I have to worry about. I have a son, a son that looks up to you, a son that no doubt wants to be just like you when he grows up, and I _can’t_ have you breaking his heart. He’s been through enough. _I’ve_ been through enough.”

Chris stepped inside your personal space and grabbed your hand. “I won’t break his heart,” he murmured. “I won’t break _your_ heart.”

Your chin quivered as you looked up at him. “I don’t know, Chris.”

“That’s okay,” he assured you. “I understand.”

Your heart and mind were waging a war and it felt like you were going to be ripped in half. Your heart won. “I like you, Chris. I do, I just need some time to think about it, okay?”

The air rushed out of him and he smiled nervously. “Yeah. Yeah, I can give you as much time as you need.”

“Thank you.” You squeezed his hand and pushed up to kiss his cheek, the soft hair of his beard tickling your lips and chin.

Before you could pull away, Chris’ arm was around your waist and his hand was on your face. He dipped down and covered your mouth with his, kissing you firmly, catching your bottom lip between his. His nose brushed against yours as he pulled back.

“I’ll call you, okay?” you rasped, swaying on your feet.

“I’ll be waiting,” he confirmed, voice thick.

You climbed into your car and started the engine. After tugging on the seat belt, you gave him a small wave and drove away, your mind wandering back to the kiss and how _perfect_ it felt.


	4. Chapter 4

“I don’t know what I should do,” you sighed, glancing at Ali from the corner of your eye. 

“Well,” she breathed, resting her hand on yours, “you say he’s been clean for ten years?”

“That’s what he said,” you confirmed, nodding your head. “Chris texted me after I got home. He said I should talk to Coach Stan, that he could support it. And he did, said Chris has been drug free since the day he showed up in town.” 

Ali blew out a breath before, once again, telling Claire that she needed to give mommy a minute. “He’s not lying, that’s good.”

“Is it?” You raked a hand through your hair. “He was addicted to cocaine, Ali. And now… now I… God, I don’t even know.” 

She ran her hand up and down your back when you hunched forward, elbows on your knees, your head hanging. “I think you should give him a chance.”

Surprise rushed through you. “You, the one who made sure I kicked Dominic to the curb for drinking, gambling, and sleeping his way through town, think I should give Chris a chance?” 

“Chris is different,” Ali noted. “And I know that you know that. I just think you’re scared, rightfully so. What Dominic did is unforgivable, but Chris… he was young and dumb, but he grew out of it. He recognizes that what he did was bad, and he knew there was a chance of relapse if he stayed, so he left. He didn’t leave behind a wife and kid. He left because it was the right thing to do. Chris is a smart guy, sweetie, and it’s obvious that he cares about you and Diego. So yeah, I think you should give him a chance.”

She was right. Of course she was. So why were you still considering telling Chris that you couldn’t see him again, that it might not be a good idea for Diego to be around him anymore? You were scared. You and Diego had been  _ hurt _ by Dominic, and that left a mark. 

“Hey, you don’t have to rush your decision, you know.”

You smiled sadly at your friend and patted her hand. “I know, I won’t.”

Diego and Claire came running in the room, mud  _ everywhere _ , and they were crying hard enough that you couldn’t understand them. 

“Whoa,” the two of you said at the same time. 

“Slow down,” you cooed, dropping to your knees in front of Diego.

“One at a time,” Ali prompted, crouching in front of Claire.

Claire was sniffling loudly over her words. “- mud pies, and - pushed -”

“No,” Diego denied. “You fell!”

“Okay, guys,” you interjected sternly. “Bath first, then we can figure it out.”

“Thank God there’s a tub on the first floor,” Ali grumbled as she stood, ushering the children into the bathroom. 

After  _ finally _ getting Diego in bed, you found yourself on the couch, cell phone in hand, mind still spinning, and not because you were still deciding what to do. You had made up your mind, you just needed to call Chris. You checked the time, making sure it wasn’t too late before placing the call.

“Hey,” he answered after the second ring. The rich timbre of his voice made your stomach flip. 

“Hey, it’s not too late to talk, is it?”

There was a slight squeak of bed springs in the background and it made all sorts of naughty images flash in your mind. “No, definitely not.”

“You sure? It’s almost ten.”

Chris murmured your name and you couldn’t deny how  _ good  _ it sounded. “I’m sure.” 

“Okay,” you hummed, knots forming deep in your gut. You wiped your palm against your thigh as your brain raced, trying to pick a sentence. 

“Breathe,” Chris instructed, his voice even, calm, relaxed. 

You huffed and shook your head. “Sorry, I’m super nervous.”

“You don’t need to apologize.”

_There he goes again, being all perfect._ _Someone should tell him to knock it off._

You squeezed the bridge of your nose as the headache you’d been fighting all day started pulsing. “Actually, I do need to. The way I reacted at the restaurant, I -”

“Is completely justified,” he interrupted. “Finding out someone was addicted to cocaine is shocking. I completely understand why you reacted the way you did. Like you said, it’s not just you that you have to worry about.”

“Stop it,” you mumbled.

“Stop what?” Chris chuckled. 

You were used to explosive arguments, vile words hurled at you like weapons of mass destruction. “Being so understanding about the whole thing. It’s… unsettling.” You pulled in a shuddering breath and squeezed your eyes shut against the stinging of tears. Dominic may be out of the picture, but the memories still haunted you.

“Hey,” he hummed. “I want you to know that even if you decide you don’t want to do…  _ this _ , I’m here for you. If there’s ever anything you need to talk about, you can talk to me.”

“Thanks, Chris,” you said with a soft sigh. “I appreciate it. I really do. On that note. I uh, I did some thinking about… well, everything.”

Chris pulled in a long breath before asking. “And? What did you decide?”

You could picture him in your mind; long fingers fidgeting with the sheet or the hem of his shirt, if he was wearing one. Then your mind revved into high gear and flashes of those long fingers skimming over your curves, squeezing tight, pushing and pulling… 

“I uh, I’d like to give this,  _ us _ , a chance,” you stammered after clearing your throat. 

“Yeah?” Even through the phone, you could feel his barely-restrained enthusiasm. 

A smile tugged at your lips, a genuine one that you had gone far too long without. “Yeah,” you chuckled. 

Chris let out a sigh of relief before asking, “When would you like to start? Dating, that is.”

“You sound eager,” you joked.

“To spend time with an amazing, smart, funny, beautiful woman? Damn right I am.” 

You rolled your eyes at the compliment but refrained from telling him to stop. “How does Tuesday sound?”

“A weeknight? You rebel,” Chris laughed. 

“Take it or leave it, Coach,” you teased, enjoying the warmth spreading in your chest. 

Chris gasped. “Trust me, doll. I’m taking it.”

Well, then. You could get used to hearing him call you doll  _ real  _ damn quick.

“There’s a diner on third, has the most amazing -”

“Philly cheesesteak,” he said at the same time as you, which made the pair of you laugh. 

“I take it you’ve been there.”

Chris hummed an affirmation. “Shall I pick you up, or would you like to meet there?”

Without hesitation, you gave him your address. “Is six too late for you?”

“I’ll be there with bells on,” he practically giggled. 

“See you then.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Chris said.

A multitude of butterflies showed up in your stomach, fluttering their wings. “Goodnight, Chris.”


End file.
